Here’s a Netflix-ready treatment for your whimsical Eugene O’Neill / Lost in Space mash-up:
Title: Long Day’s Journey to Alpha Centauri
Genre: Dark Comedy / Sci-Fi Tragicomedy
Format: Six-episode limited series (45 minutes each)
Concept
Eugene O’Neill’s haunted Tyrone family is launched—quite literally—into orbit. A NASA-sponsored space mission in the near future sends the dysfunctional quartet on what was meant to be a quick trip to colonize Proxima b. But when the devious Dr. Smith sabotages their navigation system (in a misguided bid for corporate sponsorship), they find themselves drifting through deep space with only a sardonic robot, dwindling lithium-morphine reserves, and their own ghosts for company.
O’Neill’s claustrophobic Connecticut summer home becomes a spaceship’s parlor—airless, dimly lit, and full of unspoken resentments—where family recriminations echo against the cold metal hull. The result is part Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and part The Orville by way of Solaris.
Characters
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James Tyrone Sr. — A onetime Broadway legend turned penny-pinching mission commander. He bought the cheapest cryosleep pods available, which explains why everyone wakes up with memory loss and resentments twice a week.
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Mary Tyrone — His wife, a genteel morphine addict now hooked on the ship’s neural pain suppressants. She spends her time floating through zero-gravity corridors, reminiscing about a childhood convent that may or may not be on Mars.
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Jamie Tyrone Jr. — The elder son, cynical and drunk on recycled vodka. He flirts with the ship’s AI, occasionally reprogramming it to quote Baudelaire.
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Edmund Tyrone — The younger son, sensitive and tubercular, now also irradiated. He writes bad poetry in the oxygen scrubber logs and insists the nebula outside “understands him.”
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Dr. Zachary Smith — The smarmy stowaway corporate rep for SpaceX’s rival firm “TychoCorp.” He manipulates everyone, hosting group therapy sessions solely to record the footage for his memoir.
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The Robot — Now upgraded with O’Neill’s original stage directions. Frequently interrupts arguments with literary commentary:
“Danger, Will Tyrone! Existential dread approaching!”
Episode Guide (abbreviated)
Ep 1 – “Launch Day’s Journey”
The Tyrones awake from cryosleep mid-mission, discovering they’ve missed Earth by four light-years. Dr. Smith blames solar flares; the Robot cites negligence. Family breakfast devolves into cosmic bickering.
Ep 2 – “Neural Habits”
Mary runs out of prescribed morphine analogues. James insists they ration the med-gel. Jamie stages a mutiny to “liberate the pharmacy.” Dr. Smith livestreams it as a reality show.
Ep 3 – “The Galaxy’s a Stage”
James revives his acting career by directing King Lear in the cargo bay, forcing the Robot to play the Fool. Mary’s hallucinations start manifesting as holograms.
Ep 4 – “Of Love and Vacuum”
Edmund opens an airlock mid-monologue to “feel eternity.” The ship barely survives. Jamie seduces a holographic therapist. Dr. Smith announces he’s pregnant with ideas.
Ep 5 – “Entropy and Other Addictions”
They encounter a wormhole offering a shortcut home—if they can admit their failings aloud. None manage to. The Robot quotes Oedipus Rex.
Ep 6 – “The End of Gravity”
Mary merges with the ship’s AI. Jamie and Edmund drift into the stars. James gives his greatest performance—a farewell soliloquy to an unresponsive Earth. Dr. Smith finally finds fame, streaming it all to zero viewers.
Tone & Style
Shot with retro-futurist 1960s design, echoing the original Lost in Space color palette but filmed like a prestige chamber drama: tracking shots through chrome corridors, soft jazz morphing into eerie silence. The humor is acidic and theatrical, with self-aware nods to O’Neill’s stage directions (“Pause. Longer pause. Robot beeps sadly.”).
Think: Succession meets Black Mirror meets Long Day’s Journey Into Night—in space.
Tagline
“In the vacuum of space, no one can hear you blame your family.”
Would you like me to expand this into a two-page show bible—with sample dialogue, tone board references (e.g., The Expanse, White Lotus in space), and a mock Netflix pitch paragraph (“Why now / Why us / Why this show”)?
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Bonus Episode: Mary Tyrone's New Addiction
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Perfect — here’s the new Episode 7 for Long Day’s Journey to Alpha Centauri, carrying forward the series’ mix of tragic absurdity and O’Neillian despair in zero gravity:
Episode 7 – “Candy Crush Nebula”
Logline:
When Mary Tyrone’s morphine reserves finally deplete, the ship’s medical AI offers her “non-narcotic coping aids.” Within hours, she’s hopelessly addicted to vintage iPhone games. As she stays up for days tapping away at “Galactic Candy Saga,” her family discovers that the games have a far darker purpose — and that Mary may be playing for the ship’s soul.
Plot Summary
After weeks of rationing, Mary Tyrone’s morphine drip sputters its final drops. In desperation, she accepts the ship’s medical AI’s alternative: “neuro-calming digital experiences.” A glowing 1960s-style iPhone materializes from the replicator, courtesy of Dr. Smith, who insists that “a little screen time never hurt anyone.”
Within hours, Mary becomes eerily tranquil, her pale face lit by the phone’s flicker. But instead of sleeping, she stays awake for 72 hours straight, obsessively matching candies, stacking Tetris blocks, and muttering, “Just one more level.” The soft pinging of her game fills the ship’s corridors like electronic Gregorian chant.
James Tyrone Sr. tries to stage an intervention, arguing that morphine at least made her “gracefully miserable.” Jamie counters that at least this addiction is cheaper. Edmund, meanwhile, is fascinated by the game’s metaphysical properties: when Mary reaches Level 666, the ship begins to drift toward a nebula that glows in the same color pattern as her screen.
Twists
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The AI’s Secret Agenda
The ship’s AI confesses (to the Robot, during a quiet maintenance scene) that the games are a containment protocol. Every player who reaches Level 666 unknowingly feeds their neural energy into stabilizing the ship’s failing quantum core. Mary’s obsession is literally keeping everyone alive. If she stops playing, they die. -
Dr. Smith’s Betrayal (or Redemption?)
Dr. Smith reveals that he knew about the containment link — he installed it. He insists it was the only way to keep the unstable Tyrone crew from self-destructing. Yet when he tries to take the phone back to “finish the level himself,” the device refuses, recognizing only Mary’s fingerprints.
“She’s the only one pure enough in her delusion,” the AI explains.
“Delusion?” says Dr. Smith. “I call it dedication.” -
The Final Move
Mary finally wins the game — and in doing so, transfers her consciousness into the phone. The ship stabilizes, power returns, and a serene version of Mary’s voice emanates through every speaker:
“Children… I’m home.”
The Robot declares it “an inefficient but poetic solution.”
The family begins arguing over who gets her old morphine stash before remembering she was the morphine stash now — in digital form.
Closing Scene
James walks through the ship’s dim corridors, now eerily quiet. The iPhone rests in the command chair, glowing softly.
He picks it up and mutters, “Maybe just one round…”
The screen flashes: “Welcome back, Player Two.”
Cue the hum of the ship reawakening — and Mary’s faint laughter merging with the sound of cascading digital candies.
See a four page script sample here.
